


Toi et Moi

by EmiAlvi



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 20:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmiAlvi/pseuds/EmiAlvi
Summary: Warly finds out he might have a fixation on a certain mime.





	Toi et Moi

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write (or draw) nearly enough for how much I love this pairing. Better do it while inspiration strikes, yeah?

Warly never thought this kind of thing would happen to him in a situation like his own. After all, feeling butterflies in his stomach more often than not meant he hasn't fed himself in hours rather than his hormones acting up -- besides, up until several days ago he didn't have many options. The surfer? He always saw Walani as more of a close friend, much as he cared for her. The pirate? Woodlegs was too old and, well... he was _Woodlegs_. Should he even explain the monkey's case?

That said, the last thing he expected to make him see hearts flutter around his head was the mime of all people.

He admittedly didn't think much of Wes at first. Another survivor out of eleven he and his friends had encountered after using the Seaworthy to teleport to less sandy lands; heck, he's had a quicker impression of Maxwell, far from a positive one at that. How deranged could these people be to accept such a man into their group? As it turned out, not very. They were pleasant even, though upon learning Wes knew French, there was an obvious bias from the chef's part. Call him simple, but sharing at least one trait with him was guaranteed to make the bonding process quicker. And, hey... He _did_ miss France, after all.

Yet all he could ask Wes was if he liked spaghetti.

That in the beginning, at least. With time he got to know everyone better, but specially the mime; not much could be said because he refused to talk, but that was a detail that he eventually grew accustomed to. He sure knew how to express himself through body language alone! The way he moved his hands with a flick of the wrist here and there, how he swayed his hips and twirled in place sometimes, the manner in which those painted lips stretched in such a pretty smile, how those dark eyes looked at him with such fondness...  
  
It was all very effective at having him melt like ice under the sun.  
  
He noticed it one night in particular while conversing with Wes, the mime having chosen to keep Warly company while it was his turn to stand watch. His heart pounded within his ribcage in a remarkable manner whenever Wes smiled or laughed, oddly silent as the latter action was. It didn't matter; seeing his shoulders shake in his mirth, those dark lips blessing him with a gentle grin... It made him wish he could scoot closer without it feeling awkward. Would the mime mind? Alas, he wasn't brave enough to find out -- so instead, he spent the whole while telling stories with a joke thrown in here and there, just in case they got too heavy at times.  
  
It got difficult to sleep after that realization. His brain was as active as anyone else's before they slept, so his mind more often than not wandered into territories that made him squirm with how his stomach acted up in such a pleasant manner. It was almost as if coming to terms with the fact he had a crush made his face feel very warm, his own mouth curling in a dumb smile whenever the mime was close enough in his dreams to... to...  
  
"Warly! Hey, Warls, wake up!"  
  
A lone groan escaped him in protest, the chef having to rub at his eyelids as they refused to open; said rubbing hand then slid down his face as he was greeted by a familiar face inside of the tent he was in. "Is something the matter, Walani...?"  
  
"I know you were awake all night and stuff, but uh -- are you gonna cook for us, man?" She pointed a thumb backwards, "Pretty sure it's almost lunch time and none of us even had breakfast."  
  
Warly just stared in mild disbelief. "And you lot could not cook for _yourselves_? As far as I'm aware--"  
  
"You're the least likely here to get goop out of the crock pot!" Her answer didn't seem to convince him. Walani's shoulders dropped before she leaned in, fluttering her lashes, "Pleeeeeaaaaase? We _love_ your cooking, you know that!"  
  
"Yes, well, I value sleeping even more." With that said he rolled in place to face away from the surfer, tugging his blanket up to cover him again as he closed his eyes once more. "Find someone else to spoil you."  
  
A long pause followed, and just when Warly took that as a sign Walani left, she decided to add "And what about the mime?", effectively breaking that little moment of peace and any will to sleep. He tensed up, eyes darting about as if trying to find an answer that didn't expose him too badly.  
  
"... What about him...?"  
  
"C'mon, you can't fool me. I know you'd cook anything for Wes!"  
  
... His shoulders dropped and he let out a sigh, rolling onto his back as he rubbed at his sinuses. _Lord, he should've been less obvious._ "Walani, please be a good friend and don't tell him I--"  
  
"French buddies after all, yeah? If I didn't know any better, I'd tell you to marry the guy, hahah!"  
  
Again he stared, this time in awkward realization preceded by a cough. Did it get warm in here or was it just his face? "Ah, right! Buddies..." Cue a forced laugh, the Frenchman leaning up by using both elvows as support. "What a comedian you turned out to be, huh!"  
  
Walani's amused smile slowly dropped in favor of a squint, this small gesture alone enough to send a shudder down Warly's spine. "Warly?" He made a squeaky kind of inquisitive noise, which got a little smirk out of the surfer... growing curiosity notwithstanding. "What's the matter? What's up with you and--"  
  
"Walani, dear, please come back!"  
  
 _Goodness gracious, Wickerbottom was a godsend_. Warly sighed in nearly mind-numbing relief at the sight of Walani turning her head before she stood up with a "What's up!" in response, a brief exchange given between the two ladies before she faced the chef once again. "Okay, but we're talking later." Off she went at last, leaving a very awake Warly behind that decided to drop himself onto his back.  
  
As he heard distant chatter and activity from survivors and creatures alike around him, Warly came to the conclusion this was going to be a slow morning.


End file.
